Wednesday, August 28, 2013

We all want our books to be made into movies. The one I'd love to see on the big screen the most, besides my Navy SEAL Seal Team Heartbreaker books, is TIMELESS. My romantic suspense set in Loch Maree, Scotland.

The next best thing to a movie, is a book trailer and my cover artist Tracy Stewart at Simply Bookish has created me one. And it's fantastic. So here's the link and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Archaeology student, Regan Stanhope, lands the chance of a
lifetime when she’s chosen to work on a summer dig in Loch Maree, Scotland. The
ancient monoliths hidden beneath the loch are the most important discovery
since Stonehenge. And for seven hundred years, they have been waiting—for her.

Saturation diver Quinn Douglas is contracted to recover some of the megaliths
from the loch’s bottom. The job will breathe life into the struggling salvage
business he and his brothers are building. But from the moment he arrives,
Quinn is plagued by dreams and feelings from a past he did not live. Or did he?

Regan and Quinn are drawn to each other as they research the monoliths and the
reason behind their shared visions. But both sense something mystical at work,
delving into their minds, manipulating their emotions. And when they finally
discover the monoliths’ extraordinary secret, they know they must seal them
away from those who are desperate to unlock their power. Even if it means
remaining caught in a timeless struggle between the past and present forever.

So if you haven't read the book, this is your chance to get it at a reduced rate.

Here's the Blurb:

When LIEUTENANT ADAM “HAWK” YAZZIE rescues ENSIGN BRETT “CUTTER” WEAVER
during a mission in Iraq, his faith in his team’s loyalty is shaken.
Someone in the team attacked Cutter and left him for dead. But who?

ZOE
WEAVER races to her brother Brett’s bedside. He stood by her while she
fought her way back from a devastating injury, and she’s determined to
do the same for him. Though drawn to Hawk’s good looks and steady
strength, she’s reluctant to get involved with a man in uniform. But
with Brett lying in a coma, Hawk may prove the key to what happened to
her brother.

Hawk is torn between loyalty to his men and his need
to see justice done. When he tries to save a troubled teammate’s
career, he unwittingly puts Zoe’s life in danger. Can he lead the rest
of the team in a rescue operation to save her? Or will one of Hawk's
brothers in arms destroy the woman he loves?

And An excerpt:

“I was born here in San Diego. My father worked construction
and my mom was a legal secretary. My dad died in a fall on a building site when
I was young. My mom raised me on her own. She died five years ago. Breast cancer.”
He controlled his expression with an effort though the ache of loss and the
guilt was still there. Why had she not told him how ill she was? Why had she
waited for him to come home? She’d waited too long and she’d died alone.

“I’m sorry.”

The soft, husky sincerity he heard in her tone tugged his
thoughts back. He turned his head to look at her. “I am, too.”

“What was she like?”

Despite the anger a smile tugged at his lips. “A hard ass,
but loving with it. I got mixed up with the wrong crowd as a teenager. Nearly
got into a gang. She threatened to quit her job and hound my every step until I
straightened up my act.”

“It must have worked.”

“Yeah, it did. She talked me into taking ROTC. Said if I was
going to join a gang it might as well be one that would teach me the right kind
of discipline. I stayed with it and earned an academic scholarship for
college.”

“Do you have any other family?”

“Some distant cousins on my father’s side who live in New
Mexico. My mother’s father is still alive. He lives in LA.”

“Brett said your father was Navaho.”

“Yeah, half, which makes me a quarter.”

“Because of your skin and hair color, I imagine it’s easier
to get around undetected in foreign ports.”

“Sometimes.” The defensive feelings caught him by surprise.
“That isn’t why you feel so uneasy with me, is it?”

Her face went blank with shock, then she sat up. “No! Why
would you even think that? I mean, that I feel uneasy with you.”

“You’re on edge with me.”

For a moment she stared at him then looked away. “It isn’t
you. I mean--” She rocked forward to rise to her feet. It took a moment for her
to establish her balance, and for the first time, he realized what a struggle
her injury proved for her.

He waded from the hot tub by way of the steps and grasped a
towel from the end table. Turning aside to cover the lingering effects of his
arousal, he wrapped it around his waist.

He hadn’t meant to bring things to a head between
them--those puns were killing him but he just couldn’t leave it alone. He had
to know.

Her features tense, she faced him. “I’m not prejudiced
against you because of your Indian heritage, Hawk.”

“Is it because I’m responsible for what happened to Brett?”

“Are you?”

“I didn’t hit him in the head. No. But it was my mission,
this is my team. Every man in it is my responsibility.”

Some of the tension left her features. “As much as I’d like
a target to vent my frustration and anger at, I can’t really hold you
responsible for Brett’s condition.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t want to be drawn back into the life again.”

“Military life?”

“Yes.” Zoe folded her arms against her midriff as though
cold. “You don’t have to enlist to be a part of it. I used to love it, the
travel, new places, new people, the troops in uniform, their shoes spit shined,
their brass polished until it gleamed. The singsong sound of a drill instructor
calling out orders on the parade ground. Seeing them march in formation across
the base. I loved it all. Then Desert Storm happened-“

“And your father was killed.” He sucked in his breath as
though he’d been hit in the solar plexus. Just when he thought he had things
figured out something else cropped up.

She nodded, her body taut, her features carefully blank.
“Brett being hurt was like--“Her throat worked as she swallowed and she shook
her head. “I met you and your men. I’ve broken bread with you, laughed with
you, been embraced by your families. I’m just having some trouble dealing with
all these emotions, all these memories--”

He rested a hand upon her shoulder as she edged toward the
door. The tension of her muscles as she struggled to retain her composure
thrummed beneath his touch.

“You have to believe that we’re better trained, better
prepared, than they are, Zoe. We’re going to be all right.”

“I hope so, I really do.”

She turned to face him and raised a hand to cup his cheek,
her thumb moving along his cheekbone in a caress that caught him by surprise.
His heart rate shot up as he met the clarity of her gaze.

“I didn’t mean anything derogatory about your heritage. I’m
sorry if it came out wrong.”

He caught her hand when she started to withdraw. “It’s all
right, Zoe.” He braced an arm against the door facing above her and shifted
closer. The desire to feel her body against his made his breathing unsteady. He
caught a whiff of her vanilla shampoo and a hint of some other floral scent on
her skin.

She leaned back against the door facing, aligning her body
to his stance. With a foot of space between them, they seemed to generate
enough heat to singe the hair off his chest. Her fingers curled around his thumb
as it pressed into her palm bringing to mind her fingers closing around other
parts of his anatomy.

“I just meant that you should use whatever you had to stay
safe.” Her voice softened, her Kentucky accent, growing thick as honey.

“Yeah, I got that,” He managed, though he felt starved for
breath, as though he’d just finished a ten K run on a sandy beach.

She bit her bottom lip, leaving a glossy sheen of moisture
behind. He bit back a groan. Blood shot to his groin. Jesus--Beads of moisture
tracked an itchy path down his spine. It hurt to drag his gaze from her mouth.

Her mother was only a few yards down the hall. She trusted
him. Zoe trusted him. It would be a breach of both their trusts for him to take
advantage. He couldn’t have an affair with his best friend’s sister. He
couldn’t offer her any emotional security. He wasn’t the permanent kind.

All those rationalizations didn’t ease the tight heavy
feeling of his arousal, or the ache of need that clenched inside him. He forced
himself to relinquish Zoe’s hand and take a step back. “It’s getting late and
you should be in bed.” His voice sounded husky, almost a growl.

For a moment she remained still. Slowly, she straightened
away from the door facing, and he curved a steadying hand around her upper arm.
Her head down, she brushed passed him, her voice almost a whisper as she said,
“Good night, Hawk.”

He listened to her progress through the house until a door
closed. Hawk drew a deep breath to ease his pounding heart and realized he was
trembling.

When lady’s maid Grace MacNab captures the eye of fierce
warrior, Gabriel Campbell, the man she has loved for more than a year, she hopes
she may one day wed the man of her dreams. But Grace holds a secret about her
past that may stand in the way of their happiness.

Gabriel Campbell desires Grace with a passion just as fierce
as his loyalty to the Campbell Clan, but she wants marriage and he’s not ready
to lay down his sword to raise babies. Gabriel can’t reject Grace’s love and
hurt the woman who’s penetrated his defenses, but neither can he dishonor her
with less than a commitment.

Can trust end their doubts and seal their love?

And an excerpt:

He set aside the small crock and bundled strips to wipe his face and dry
his hair, then draped the rag across the back of a chair. His heavy sword and
girdle made a hollow sound as he laid it on the table.He unlaced his leather jerkin, peeled it
away, and tossed it onto one of the rough-woven seats. His shirtsleeves clung
to his muscular arms, still wet. When he knelt before her, Grace straightened
in surprise.

“Aye. I am. Except for the wee cut on my foot, I am the same as I was
this morn when we broke our fast together.”

His features relaxed. He sat on the stone hearth and rubbed a hand over
his beard-covered jaw. His knuckles were red and swollen from the fight. His
hair, still wet, hung against his cheeks. Mud splattered his boots and the
knees of his trews. Yet he made no move to see to his own needs.

A wave of tenderness drove Grace to retrieve the washbowl from the small
table, and, returning to the fireplace, she poured some of the hot water from
the pot on the hearth into it. “Come sit at the table and put your hands into
the water, Gabriel. ‘Twill ease the soreness and the swelling.”

His gaze meander from her bare feet, over her calves, then upward. With
every inch, it became harder for her to take a full breath, and her mouth grew progressively
drier. A sweet ache blossomed in the secret parts of her body. He rose to his feet
and the feeling increased. By the time he reached the table, her body clamored
for his touch.

His fingers brushed the hem of the shirt she wore. Her knee tingled at
the closeness of his fingers, though he never made contact. It took all her control
to remain motionless, though the desire to be closer threatened to overwhelm
her.

“You are a sweet sight, Grace. A temptation t’ me.” Gabriel’s voice was
soft and husky. “‘Twould be best for us both for you to dress while I am thus distracted.”

Warmth surged into her face and she nodded. She limped to the bed and
found her shift. What would it be like to have a man with so kind a nature
share her body? She saw the glow on Lady Mary’s face when Lord Alexander was
near. Their public expressions of affection were few, but she had observed the
way his hand lingered at her waist when they walked together. How he cupped her
shoulder when he rested his arm on the back of her chair. In his conduct, his
love for her was there for all to see.

‘Tis that and more I want. But how
can I get it? And what is it they share that brings such a light to their eyes?

Grace drew the shirt up over her head and dropped it upon the bed. She
glanced over her shoulder. Gabriel would not dishonor her by looking, but the
tense set of his shoulders told her he wanted to.

She smiled.

How would she feel if he saw her like this? Warmth flooded her body and the
intimate, taunting need he inspired intensified. Such new and wondrous feelings
set her hands to shaking and made them clumsy as she slipped her shift on over
her head, then her kirtle. Her skin felt tight, the fabric rough against it. When
she tugged her surcoat into place she realized, for the first time, how
restricting clothing could be.

Favorite links

About Me

Hi:
I'm Teresa Reasor. I'm a retired art teacher, college instructor and now a FULL TIME writer!! I've been published since 2007. My Muse's Musings is dedicated all my writing related endeavors. Books, book signings, some of the research I've been doing for my books and my adventures. I hope you enjoy my blog